


circumnavigating foundations

by preromantics



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:47:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preromantics/pseuds/preromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'He watches Brendon slide up close to Spencer in fast food booths, and comment on his ever-growing hair just so he can take a piece of it between his fingers.'</i> / Brendon, Shane, and Spencer and the daynight of 3/31/09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	circumnavigating foundations

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ 3/31/09.

Shane probably notices in the first week or so he's at the cabin. Just the glances and Brendon's sometime-reluctance to let go. 

It is easily pushed to the background, though, for months even. Brendon occupies his time and sometimes his bed, and filming and the rest of the band take up most of what's left.

Again, though, Shane notices. He watches Brendon slide up close to Spencer in fast-food booths and comment on his ever-growing hair just so he can take a lock of it between his fingers.

Shane watches as a third-party, a little twist in his gut every time he notices or rewinds some film and sees the gestures returned on Spencer's part.

It's not for a while that Shane realizes what the twist in his gut means. He's got Brendon on his back, arched up under him with his arms up and latching onto the headboard rungs - almost as if Shane had tied him there. It's good, really good and quite possibly the best sex they've had in a while. They aren't sneaking around or under the influence of anything deliberately.

Brendon is breathless beneath him, getting quieter as he gets closer. Shane feels it, too, wound up from a day of dancing around each other and promises whispered at the local Whole Foods, and it's hard not to build up fast. Not with the noises and how Brendon is spread out so nicely, not with how slick and tight he is around him.

Shane is practically seconds away, his own hand steady around Brendon's dick, when the phone on the nightstand starts rattling against the wood.

Blurry-eyed and ignoring Brendon's low noise when his own rhythm falters, Shane leans over to peer at the screen.

"It's Spence," he says, surprised to hear his own voice utter Spencer's name so low and scratchy.

Brendon arches up, back cracking audibly and knuckles turning white against the headboard, coming with a drawn out gasp.

Shane comes, too, snapping forward before slumping down, boneless and surprised.

It's then that he realizes the twist in his gut that was becoming ever present isn't jealousy, (he didn't think it was anyway - he and Brendon have an open relationship,) but _want_.

"Fuck," he murmurs.

Brendon agrees on a different thought with a grin and small sound.

-

The three of them stop in a diner called the Dinerant on the way to the Leno taping.

Shane watches Spencer through tired eyes, wondering if he can tell how sated Brendon looks, or if he ever thinks about how Brendon looks with his lips wrapped around -

"Shane? Hello?" Brendon pokes at him with a silver fork, and when Shane looks down at it he can see the water marks left over from a poor dishwashing job.

Brendon rolls his eyes, eyebrows going up comically, starkly visible now that his forehead is bare.

"Are you pumped?" he asks, with the air of having asked the question several times before.

Shane makes a face, peering at Brendon through the video camera left out on the table for a moment. "Pumped for what?"

Spencer snorts, and Shane's eyes are automatically drawn up to him. "Brendon," he says, low and lazy in a way Shane really appreciates, "I think our Shane has been abducted by Martians. Do not be alarmed." He takes a sip of his coffee, after, but his eyes are smiling at Shane over the top of the cup.

Brendon looks at him, too, faux alarmed. "That's a shame," he comments, trying for the same tone Spencer was going for and failing by a lot, laughing at the end.

Shane kicks him from under the table, and Brendon retaliates full-force.

"While you two girls play footsie," Spencer says, "I will be right back." He stretches when he gets out of the booth, and if Shane watches the strip of soft, rounded skin that is displayed when his shirt rises with a slightly hungrier look than when he looked at the menu, no one mentions anything.

He means to say something in reference to Spencer when he turns back to Brendon, and even opens his mouth to do so, but Brendon beats him with something to say.

He leans forward, first, face too relaxed for him not to be planning something. "I want to blow you in the Leno bathrooms."

Shane's eyes cross, briefly, and he nods. Brendon looks pleased and leans back.

When Spencer comes back, Shane sips at his coffee, toes curled in pleasure while he watches Brendon steal food from Spencer and laugh into his shoulder.

-

The initial practice goes well, but fast. Brendon waggles his eyebrows a lot in their direction from beside Patrick and Spencer talks about plans for the night.

His plans are not _exactly_ on par with Shane's.

-

They grab drinks somewhere in Burbank, after, waiting for taping later on. Spencer puts some of his plans from the studio into action, but Shane is distracted.

Brendon alternates between shooting him devilish looks over his rum and coke, and straightening the back of Spencer's shirt where it comes up and wrinkles from his position on the barstool.

"I miss performing," Brendon concedes when they are all packing down their last drinks before the show. His eyes are shining, and Spencer wraps a heavy arm around his shoulders in agreement.

"Soon," Shane says, partly to himself and party to reassure Brendon and Spencer.

Spencer's fingers are just lightly brushing against Shane's neck with how they are walking, and the air feels somehow different when they get outside.

-

The bathroom is nice, backstage. It's not the one nearest to the green room, and it's furthest from kraft services, but it's still big enough for the two of them and more.

Brendon is just sweaty around the edges, where the hair on the back of his neck is beginning to grow out again, and collected against the tiny bit of collarbone that Shane can see.

He brushes a wet bead from across Brendon's brow before leaning forward so their foreheads meet.

"Good performance," Shane tells him.

"Yeah?" Brendon's waiting, Shane can tell. His mouth is quirked at the side and one eyebrow is raised just slightly.

"I couldn't wait for it to be over, though," Shane says, grinning quick back. "Camera guys kept providing some really nice shots of your mouth."

Brendon tips his head back and makes a low laughing sound. "They are trained to work my best feature," he smiles.

It's a little bit like a game, the banter.

"Well," Shane starts, "why don't you and your best feature-" but Brendon cuts him off.

"Shut up," he says, rolling his eyes but still grinning. Shane tilts to meet him, matching the hard press of his lips.

Brendon gets his pants down surprisingly fast. What isn't surprising is how close Shane is to being fully hard.

Brendon nuzzles him through his briefs first, mouthing at the cotton. "God," he says, "were you gagging for it the whole time I was up there?"

Shane tangles a hand in his hair, tugging upwards impatiently. "I'm not the one who is going to be gagging in a few seconds, Urie," he grits out, a little hilarious, while Brendon pulls him all the way out.

"Touché," Brendon commends, low, before dropping down to suck in the head of Shane's cock, easily mouthing him until he's hard and full. He twists his hand just nicely, thumb curling under his own lip to press just like Shane enjoys.

They have to be quicker than usual, as much as Brendon likes taking his time. Now, he's taking Shane practically all the way down on every other movement, pressing his fingers just nicely where he is cupping Shane's balls.

"Do you think," Shane breathes out when he's really close, "that Spencer is wandering around, looking for us?"

Brendon groans around his cock, eyes rolling back and Shane jerks forward, coming deep down Brendon's throat, the rest striping along his lips.

Shane slides to the floor in front of Brendon, and Brendon cuffs at his head. "Asshole," he laughs, "lucky you did that after I sang."

In response, Shane makes a muffled noise of protest, still a little blissed out.

"Get up," Brendon pesters, after Shane shuts his eyes for a second too long, "before anyone really _does_ come looking for us.

-

They exit the bathroom as quietly as possible, Brendon leaning against his shoulder and mid-whine before Shane looks up.

Spencer is standing there, both eyebrows raised and his mouth puckered. "Oh," he says.

Shane looks down, pulling up his fly and imagining what it must look like they were doing in the bathroom (regardless of the fact that they did do what it looks like,) with Brendon's swollen and spit slicked red lips, hair sticking up and half-hard in his not unrevealing jeans. Shane can't imagine he looks much better.

"Well," Brendon says, in a tone indicating mild hysteria, "we could have timed that better."

"Yeah," Spencer says, in a thoughtful tone Shane can't quite read, "let's just. Leave."

He spares them a sort of amused glance, with an undercurrent, and Brendon follows him slowly, if not awkwardly. Shane follows the pair after a beat, definitely more awkwardly than slow.

-

Brendon starts falling asleep at the wheel (after a nice if not slightly tense dinner,) before Spencer makes the executive desicion that they should go get double espresso shots at a Dunkin Donuts, and that he'll drive.

Brendon, now situated in the backseat alone, procures a bottle of vodka from somewhere. (It's his car, Shane doesn't ask questions, although the drive-thru lady spares them a glance when Brendon waves it around with a whoop of victory.)

"For the espresso shots," he tells them, indicating the half-full bottle.

Spencer scrunches up his nose and declines, although he looks a little reluctant, and drowns his espresso like a shot, anyway.

"Gross," Shane comments, but he allows Brendon to pour some into his cup anyway.

"Cheers," Brendon says, and Spencer pulls out, turning in the direction of Brendon's house.

-

"Okay, that was disgusting," Shane tells him, making his way through the door. Spencer pushes through after him, and looks only a little less awake then Brendon, who looks ready to start the day all over again.

"Didn't think it was that bad," Brendon shrugs, pulling off the jacket over top his shirt, and Shane tries not to glance at the crotch of his pants, wondering if he's still mostly hard despite the rest of the strange evening.

Spencer is looking at him a little strangely when Shane looks over, but he pretends not to notice.

"Let's watch a movie or something," Brendon says, tugging at Spencer to bring him in the living room, and lightly pressing against Shane in the process.

"If you pick the movie, I'm game," Spencer concedes, toeing off his shoes and flopping down on the couch.

Grinning to himself and at Brendon, Shane wanders off to grab some beers, briefly entertaining himself with thoughts of how the night (slash early morning) could turn out, and returning to the living room to the opening strains of Mission Impossible and Brendon humming along.

"Really?" Shane asks. The sound of the bottle tops popping is surprisingly satisfying in tandem.

"Really," Brendon replies, serious.

-

Shane gets bored of the movie quickly, having seen it more times than he can count on his fingers, at least. Spencer looks as bored as he feels staring at the screen but blinking irregularly, but Brendon is as close to rapt as he gets during a movie, only periodically looking down so that he can connect his mouth to the neck of his bottle.

In small movements, Shane sneaks his hand up from where it's resting on Brendon's thigh, pretending to be interested in the flat screen, before he gets to the crotch of his jeans. He can feel Brendon glancing at him, but apparently he decides to play along with the game, because he only inhales when Shane finally presses down.

He continues moving in small increments, pressing and kneading in time with the tempo of the background music for a little while, until Brendon is straining at the zipper, eyes glossed over but still staring at the screen. Brendon lifts his bottle up to his lips, clinking the glass on his tooth when Shane runs a nail hard across the stretched out denim.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shane swears he sees Spencer glance over at them, but when he squints to check, Spencer is paying attention to the movie. However, he is maybe paying a little too much attention.

Brendon's breath is growing a little shorter, and his own hand is gripping a little harder at Shane's thigh. When Shane checks his face, Brendon is staring at Spencer. Inwardly, he might possibly do a little victory dance, but his subconscious isn't apt to tell any secrets, so there is no proof.

Shane just starts in on Brendon's zipper, when Spencer reaches in a quick movement for the remote and pauses the movie. Brendon and Shane freeze as well with the click of the button and silence that falls like a heavy blanket over them.

"Okay," Spencer says, steady, "should I leave or are you going to continue doing whatever it is you are doing?

Shane means to say something persuasive, but it's stranger being called out on it, the game, than having it lead into something easier.

"You should stay," Brendon says, suddenly, breathless.

Spencer stares at him, calculating. Shane feels strange with his hand just, out there, on top of Brendon's dick.

"You should stay," Brendon repeats, "stay and join us." For how his body is straining forward, his voice is now deceptively calm. 

Spencer's gaze flicks up to Shane more questioning than anything else, and Shane meets it, also deceptively calmer than he feels. "Stay," he breathes out, just one simple world.

Brendon looks back at him, now, with a smile, and Shane rocks his shoulder against him and presses his hand down a little harder.

"So?" Brendon asks, and he presses his back against the couch, arching his neck back, intentionally looking so, so desirable. And Shane, he wants.

Shane can feel Spencer watching them intently, and he ducks down to brush his lips against the expanse of Brendon's exposed neck, and he looks up, locking eyes with Spencer as he does it. Brendon shivers, just slightly underneath him.

"Fuck," Spencer says, low, his eyes crinkled just a little at the corners, and he ducks forward, fast, reaching out to twist Brendon's chin towards him and capturing his mouth, hard enough that it almost looks painful, the clash of teeth an audible noise in the room. Shane grins to himself, leaning down, sucking a small red mark under the back collar of Brendon's shirt.

He lets them kiss like that, mouthing around Brendon's neck and massaging him still through his jeans, listening as his noises get higher and more frequent. "Yeah?" he questions, hot in Brendon's ear, toying with the zipper again, and Spencer respond for him, reaching down to join Shane's hand, and pulling it down for him.

Brendon bucks up a little, and Shane can only imagine that Spencer has wrapped his strong, sturdy fingers right around his cock, and he uses the distraction on both of their parts to swing Brendon's head around, kissing him wet and messy. There is the stale taste of the beer, and maybe a little of the espresso, but under that it's Brendon, somewhat sharp, and under all of that is Spencer, a new and foreign sort of taste that makes Shane's eyes roll back just slightly.

"Good," Brendon mutters, deep and slurred around Shane's tongue. He's being shimmied out of his jeans, and ends up slipping down the couch, landing with a thud on the ground. Spencer laughs and when Shane catches his eye, his face looks a little stunned, despite his bravado before.

"The perfect height," Shane supplies, still looking at Spencer but quirking his lip at the side.

Spencer smirks a little back at him, "I agree," he says, before switching to look down at Brendon.

"Well?" Shane asks, and he loves the way Brendon's eyes go a little wide, pupils already blown and shining.

Brendon kneels up, obediently between Spencer's legs, which spread open nicely. Shane can't help it, reaching out to help with Spencer's fly and boxers, taking him between his fingers and holding him back from Brendon, barely stroking along the soft skin but flicking his thumb against the head.

"Shane," Brendon says, warning and low, and Shane smirks a little wider.

"If you insist," he says, cheerful, and Brendon narrows his eyes at him.

"He insists," Spencer says, and Shane lets go, watching Brendon bob forward eagerly, wrapping his lips around the tip of Spencer's cock, (shining just slightly with precome,) and curling his fist around the base to keep it steady.

Shane kneads Spencer's thigh as he watches, his own cock a sympathetic voyeur to the viewing. "Is it as good as you thought?" Shane asks, while watching makes his skin itch to do something more.

Brendon hums around Spencer, agreeable, and Spencer groans, tipping his head back.

Deciding to be proactive, Shane gets up, striping off his shirt and sliding down his pants, kneeling down behind Brendon to kiss down his back a little, through the thin cotton material. His pants are off, too, which makes it easy to just reach down, teasing with a finger along the crack of his ass, slick with a little spit and sweat from Brendon.

"Are you okay from the morning?" Shane asks, considering, slipping one finger inside a little too dry. Brendon makes an obscene noise around Spencer's cock, which Spencer returns. Shane doesn't know what to make of the answer, so he hurries to grab lube from the kitchen, (fun to explain to guests, but convenient, or so says Brendon,) and come back slicking up two fingers as he goes.

He slides them in, one at first, catching Spencer's gaze and grinning at him a little wild when he adds a second, and then a third.

"Now?" Shane asks, directed at Brendon, who only makes a noise around Spencer's dick, (again.) Shane slides his fingers out, and Brendon turns around, hand working at Spencer, to glare at him.

"Yes, fuck, fuck me, Shane," he says, going for demanding but coming off wanting and a little breathless, instead.

Shane grins wider, a little more wicked than wild now, and pushes up inside, a little awkward on his knees, propelling Brendon up into Spencer. The rhythm is a little hard to find between the three of them, but good, so good when they do. Brendon is making little noises that spark up into Shane's chest, and down where he's in tight and wet inside him.

Shane feels himself close, quicker than usual, with all the stimulation between the three of them. He growls out Brendon's name, short and quick, mouthing where Brendon's hair meets the back of his neck.

Brendon takes a break from Spencer, for a second, making up with his hand, and Shane can't see his face but can practically visualize it. "You should fuck me, too," he tells Spencer, and Shane loses his breath a little, and the movement of his own hand around Brendon's dick, when Spencer arches back, glowing in the relief of the television, and comes with a loud growl.

"Or," Brendon laughs, "maybe that will have to wait."

He's still laughing a little when Shane bucks forward, squeezing around Brendon's cock tightly, and the laugh turns into a guttural growl, as Brendon comes, squeezing in turn around Shane.

He maybe blacks out for a second, but he's brought to reality with Brendon dropping down onto him, turning and kicking his pants off of his ankles and curling into Shane's neck. Spencer's foot presses against them, one at Shane's stomach, and the other alone the curve of Brendon's lower back.

"So," Spencer says, "I think we should sleep and then do that in the morning."

Brendon makes a pleased sound, always clinging after sex, and Shane answers for the both of them. "Sounds like a plan, Smith."


End file.
